Fifty-Four Days

On the 54th morning, 

postnasal drip of not having coffee yet, 

my driving to work 

in my metal box car continues.

The horizon is a palette, 

pink and blue and Van Gogh yellows.

And yet, I do suddenly realize out loud to myself, how bad you truly felt.

We will miss you and love you forever,

and for all the things I see in this atmosphere, they remind me of you.

On the 54th day.


                             ~Alyssa Trivett

                           Chicago, Illinois

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